


#freetheknee

by softiedanniie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Instagram, M/M, Phil in ripped jeans, Tour Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softiedanniie/pseuds/softiedanniie
Summary: Confidence looks good on Phil.





	#freetheknee

Impromptu photo shoots are always Dan’s fault.

They’ve just arrived at the venue, gasping in relief at the cool gush of breeze that greats them in the climate controlled building. It’s been scorching hot in the American South - the kind of heat that sucks every ounce of energy from your body the minute you step into it. Phil, so used to England’s almost perpetual chill, has been absolutely boiling alive.

There’s something about the combination of being in a foreign country and almost dying of sunstroke that’s making him more adventurous with his fashion choices. Yesterday it was shorts; today it’s ripped jeans.

He and Dan are headed towards their dressing room when Dan stops in front of a wall, a cheeky close mouthed smile stretching across his features.

“Phil,” Dan says, pulling out his phone, “Lean up against that wall.”

“Why?” Phil asks warily, already approaching the spot Dan's pointing to. Dan grabs his shoulders and positions him so his back is resting against the bricks of stone, fluffing Phil’s quiff as he steps back.

“We’re gonna give the people what they want,” Dan says simply, capturing the first pic. Phil places his hands in his front pockets, bending one of his gangly knees. He turns his face away, a slight flush beginning to creep up his neck.

These pictures are always spontaneous; sometimes Dan will come across a certain background or type of lighting, stop in his tracks and demand a photo. Most of the time it’s for his own instagram, particularly when he’s wearing a new outfit he just has to show off. He’ll hand his phone to Phil, who will happily take as many photos as Dan desires, very proud of his beautographer abilities ( _“That’s not a real word,”_ he’d laughed when Dan called him that the first time, giggling around his thumbnail). Phil knows Dan’s best angles - not that he needs much help, he thinks. He pinches himself, sometimes, to make sure he’s really there and not daydreaming in his parent’s home back in Rawtenstall about a boy he’s only seen through his computer screen.

Once in a while, though, Dan will turn on him. He gets this look in his eye, a spark that sometimes likes to wander. He’ll move Phil, arranging his awkward limbs until he’s satisfied, filling his camera with images of his favorite person. Phil lets him do it, if only to keep that spark right where it is.

He used to find it overwhelming. He’d been content to let Dan shine - let _him_ take the spotlight, let _him_ be the heartthrob. It comes easy to Dan, Phil thinks, and it should. It should.

Now though, it’s different. He’s been making these incremental changes over time and they’re being noticed. He’s quiff-ed his hair, he’s posting more photos of himself - no silly faces, no quirky poses, just him. He stands a little straighter, holds his chin a little higher. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying.

He's toeing the line of something he never thought he'd be comfortable in his skin enough to approach.

“Over here you spoon,” Dan laughs, tapping away at his screen. Phil turns his head, looking at Dan from under his lashes. Dan’s bent at the knee, rotating his phone, his tongue sticking out from between his lips just enough to be visible. Phil's chest aches, just a little, in the best way.

“Don’t look at the camera,” Dan directs imperiously.

Phil shakes his head in faux exasperation. “Where am I supposed to look then?” he asks, teasingly. He glances over Dan’s shoulder.

“Right there! Yaaas King,” Dan crows, snapping shot after shot, “Show me your quiffussy!”

A laugh bubbles up from Phil’s chest, eyebrows raising to meet his hairline. Dan taps his phone furiously.

“Nailed it,” he says with a small fist pump. He slides next to Phil, bumping shoulders, and scrolls through what has to be at least a hundred photos.

He’s warm, curly hair frizzing in the Florida humidity. There’s a small rosy patch on his jaw, the one that Phil likes rub his thumb over and over. He’s humming some little tune as he taps on one of the photos. “This one, I think,” he says softly, bright eyes searching for approval in Phil’s features.

Phil pinches himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on tumblr at @wlwdjh :)


End file.
